I was touched by the letter from Diane Santoriello. I am American but have
lived in Switzerland for nearly 26 years and travel easily between Swiss
German (which is very closely related to the dialect of the Pennsylvania
Dutch) and English. After I read the newspaper article I realized the
connection in meaning to current Swiss German usage.

In High German one usually says "Ich vermisse..." to indicate that they miss
something or "ich sehne mich nach..." for longing for. In Swiss German I
have often been asked if I have "lange Zeit" for America, e.g. if I miss /
long for / am homesick for America. Eine Zeitlang means for awhile in
current German usage. But the meaning of longing and of something missing
does indeed exist in the reverse form. I find Diane Santoriello's new usage
very apt.

From: Ursula Miedaner (ursimie gmx.de)
Subject: zeitlang

I just read your email with the description of the Pennsylvania-Dutch word
zeitlang. I'm Bavarian, and the word is still in use here, close to the
Czech border where we live, for a very strong longing for someone, so
children missing their parents and vice versa would have zeitlang for
the others. It can also be used for homesickness. Among people speaking
Bavarian German, it's really widespread, especially among older people.
The word feels very familiar, and I can very well imagine its being used
by parents missing their dead children.

From: Edith Roulet (roulet inode.at)
Subject: there is a word

I am one of your subscribers, living in Vienna, Austria. The existing German
language has always had a beautiful word for aching longing: Sehnsucht.
Goethe wrote "Only the one who has Sehnsucht knows how I suffer."
Diane: there are people like us in other countries who feel deeply sorry
for you and your Sehnsucht and sorrow.

The Hebrew language has a very specific word for the loss of a child:
she-khol (sh-KHOL). "she.khol ve.al.mon" (Isaiah 47:9) were translated to
English as "the loss of children, and widowhood". The word for a parent who
has lost a child is "horeh shakul". Shekhol is a dominant topic in modern
Hebrew literature, having touched every extended family in Israel.

Actually, my maiden name means yearning in German/Old English. Geiermann
means griever or yearner. When I was a kid, I had thought it meant vulture
man. I was very astonished when I did a Google search a few years back to
look up relatives and discovered this meaning. I also found a reference in
Russian to geiermann meaning grieve which may be the origin of the name.
I know there were professional "grievers" in the past.

From: KCC (kchobo aol.com)
Subject: Re: A.Word.A.Day--famulus

The inquiry about a word for parents of a deceased child brought to mind
the time some years ago that I'd returned to work after burying my mother.
She died six months after my younger brother had died and my grief was
palpable. I sat at my desk wishing there was morphine for survivors. A
little while later, I picked up my dictionary while performing a task. It
fell open to a page where a word I'd never seen or heard before caught my
eye: nepenthe - a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of
pain or sorrow; something capable of causing oblivion of grief or suffering.
My grief subsided eventually without resort to a nepenthe.

From: Charlie Walton (cwalton worldnet.att.net)
Subject: Book : When There Are No Words

I was saddened to read Diane Davis Santoriello's articulate description
of the futile search for words to describe the sudden death of a child. As
a father who suddenly one cold December morning lost two sons (and one of
those sons' best friend), and as a person who had earned his living for
years putting things into words for other people, I wrote a book called
When There Are No Words that has subsequently proven very supportive to
grieving parents, at Columbine, in Jonesboro, after 9/11, and in thousands
of individual cases. Grace and peace.

"Famulus" must be akin to "familiar": an animal, either a pet or a spiritual
entity, that serves a witch as a magical helper. One such animal is Piwacket,
the cat that helps Kim Novak's character in the movie "Bell, Book and Candle".

In the Latin liturgy, there is a prayer "pro famulis et famulabis" (for
servants and handmaidens -- there has to be a different ending for the
feminine to distinguish it from the masculine). There is a story about
a monastery where the text had become defective through the years, with
the result that the monks were praying "pro mulis et mulabis" (for
he-mules and she-mules).

Fabulous! That this word exists is almost as satisfying as receiving
a Christmas present that I really wanted. I can't wait to use it aided
by the proper amount of contempt that I have for flagrant lexiphanes.

This is also known as Pluralis majestatis or the "Victorian 'we'". Admiral
Hyman G. Rickover once told a subordinate who used the royal we: "Three
groups are permitted that usage: pregnant women, royalty, and schizophrenics.
Which one are you?"

Many people over 40 tend to be lugubrious on their birthdays, when they
count their years. Not so my friend Olive Riley, the world's oldest blogger
and YouTuber, on her 108th birthday last week. She was delighted to
receive hundreds of emails from wellwishers all over. The remarkable
great-great-grandmother is also the world's oldest Cinderella. Full
details in the November issue of my e-book.

The trouble with words is that you never know whose mouths they've been in.
-Dennis Potter, dramatist (1935-1994)